


a short history of almost something

by cooliohoolio



Category: Buzzfeed - Fandom, Buzzfeed Unsolved
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, inaccurate astronomy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-12-02 04:42:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11501985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cooliohoolio/pseuds/cooliohoolio
Summary: "I think I'll wait another year."Shane's in love with Ryan, and will get around to telling him. One of these days.





	a short history of almost something

**Author's Note:**

> just a small oneshot as i take a short break from writing skeptics :p
> 
> title comes from another year: a short history of almost something by amanda palmer

Shane is six-years-old when he meets Ryan Bergara.

He is _not_ happy about it-- this Ryan kid is moving into the home previously occupied by his best friend, Sara. Sure, Shane and Sara will still see each other in school (it’s nearing the end of summer, and Shane is a recently-enrolled kindergartener) but she’s no longer _next door_ , and it’s _Ryan’s_ fault. If Shane was older and had a more colorful vocabulary, he would’ve said this new kid was an asshole.

He peers through the blinds of his living room, watching the family carry items from the moving van. Mainly out of curiosity; he wants to see the _evil, awful_ people who have replaced the Rubin family across the street. He sits on the back of the couch, small hands holding the blinds down so he can see a kid around his age jump out of one of the cars and run across the yard.

Shane doesn’t know it in that moment, but later he will learn that this kid is Ryan Bergara; even later, Ryan will end up as Shane’s best friend. But right now, Shane is as angry at someone as any six-year-old can be. It’s something that he hasn’t felt very often, but he recognizes the ugly, burning feeling that starts in his chest and makes him ball up his small fists and move away from the window to sulk in a corner.

In that moment, he _hates_ Ryan. (Shane is a very melodramatic six-year-old).

\-- 

“Hi, I’m Ryan!”

Shane is mad again. It’s the first day of school, of kindergarten, and his sworn nemesis has been sat next to him. Well, sworn-nemesis-that-does-not-know-he-is-my-sworn-nemesis. Right now, Ryan’s got his crayons scattered all over his own desk (and consequently they have spilled over onto Shane’s desk, which Shane finds very annoying), and is looking at Shane expectantly.

Shane doesn’t know what to do. He wants to tell Ryan that he doesn’t like him, but that would probably get him in trouble with the teacher. So instead, he gets up and goes over to where Sara and some other girl were playing with Legos. After greeting his best friend and sitting down to play with her, he hoped that Ryan would’ve gotten the message and left him alone. Preferably forever.

He did not.

The very next day Ryan was back at it, if anything with a renewed spirit; he greeted Shane as soon as he entered the classroom, much to Shane’s chagrin. They were being forced to sit at their desks as the teacher taught the alphabet, and thus, Shane was forced to sit next to Ryan without any escape.

“I’m Ryan,” Ryan repeats himself from yesterday, apparently thinking Shane did not hear him-- once again, he simply ignored Ryan. Crossed his arms and turned away from him in the desk chair and pointedly didn’t look at him.

Someone tapped on Shane’s shoulder, and he felt his annoyance rise. Glancing behind him, he could see Ryan staring at him with big brown eyes.

“What’s your name?” He asked, _not getting the hint_. Shane frowned, then side-eyed the teacher, who was writing letters on the board.

 “I’m Shane, and I don’t like you,” He said, quiet enough to where the teacher wouldn’t hear him.

Ryan tilted his head in confusion. “Why’s that?” He asked, sounding more puzzled than hurt, “Did I do somethin’?”

“You live in the house across the street. Now Sara doesn’t live there and Sara’s my best friend,” Shane explained impatiently, childish petulance in his tone, “That’s why I don’t like you.”

Ryan seemed to have stopped listening as soon as Shane said he lived across the street-- his face lit up with glee and he gasped in excitement. “You live across the street?” He asked, starry-eyed, “We should be friends! Do you want to come over and look at my dinosaur collection?”

Shane’s immature hatred of Ryan and his extreme love of dinosaurs warred inside of him. He may hate Ryan for moving into Sara’s house.... but _dinosaurs._ Shane bit his lip indecisively.

“What kind?” He asked, and Ryan began a long ramble about all the different types of dinosaurs he had, didn’t have, and all of the interesting facts about them he could think of-- he knew quite a bit about the extinct reptiles, more than anyone would expect a six-year-old to know. As he talked, Shane felt his anger at Ryan dissipate (it was hard for six-year-olds to hold grudges, and it was hard for most people to stay angry at Ryan). That was the first time Shane really found himself swept up into the storm that was Ryan Bergara. The first time Shane watched Ryan talk about something he loved and got so overwhelmed with information it made his head spin.

That’s where it all began, really; even at six, Shane was fascinated by Ryan. Later, when they were older, this fascination would morph into affection which would then transform into attraction-- which results in a _lot_ of confusion on Shane’s part.

\--

“Shane,” Ryan whispered as they sat on Shane’s front porch, the summer heat quickly declining as the sun set and the mosquitos came out of wherever they hid during the day; Shane looked over at Ryan calling his name in a languid manner. The intense heat had made him lethargic, and whatever Ryan was planning, he _really_ didn’t want to get up from where he was leaning up against the cool wall.

“Shane,” Ryan repeated, and Shane watched him stand up from where he was leaning against the porch rail, “Let’s sleep outside tonight. I have a tent in my garage, and we can make a campfire.”

It was the first weekend after school had ended, both of them proud graduates of the fifth grade, and now middle school bound. Five years after they had first met, and Shane now considered Ryan his closest friend. The summer was just starting to pick up and they had been switching houses to sleep over at all week; today, they’d stayed over at Ryan’s and played video games all day before coming over to Shane’s to eat dinner.

Shane rolled his eyes at Ryan. “No way you’re getting me to sleep out here,” He grumbled, sitting up, “It’s way too hot and there are too many bugs everywhere. And a campfire would just make it _more_ hot. No way.” But Ryan had this mischievous look in his eyes, and it was in that moment Shane knew that he would be sleeping in a tent that night.

If there was one thing Shane had learned within the last five years, it was that he couldn’t say no to Ryan. Not when he set his mind to something-- if there was something Ryan wanted to do, Shane would end up being dragged alongside him.

“Please? Come on, it’ll be fun, and we can grab bug spray.” Ryan was giving Shane that _look_ that he always pulled to get Shane to go along with him, the puppy-dog eyes that Shane really had a difficult time telling no.

“Can’t we just go back inside and play XBox?” It was a weak, last-ditch effort to getting out of having to sleep on the bumpy ground, but Shane could already see the determined glint in Ryan’s eyes. He groaned, yet picked himself up off of the porch anyways.

So he found himself here, not thirty minutes later, sitting in his backyard around his dad’s fire pit as the orange flames of the campfire shot up into the dark, night sky. Setting up the tent had been an… ordeal, as had been actually setting the fire (which Shane wasn’t actually too sure they were allowed to do), but now they had settled down into the grass around the fire, into a companionable silence. Ryan was leaning back, seemingly enjoying the feeling of the grass beneath him and the fire in front.

 _He looks quite nice like that_ , Shane thought unbidden. In the orange glow of the fire, face upturned towards the sky, Ryan looked… serene, relaxed. Shane felt his face heat suddenly, some unknown embarrassment making him blush and avert his eyes. He didn’t know why.

Shane didn’t bother worrying about it, though. Shook it off and looked up at the sky, vast and dark. It was clear, and an endless number of stars dusted the sky-- he suddenly felt very small, staring up at the infinite sky. He probably would’ve had his very first existential crisis right then if Ryan hadn’t interrupted his thoughts.

“Do you see that cluster of stars right there?” Ryan asked, voice quiet under the buzzing of all the bugs inhabiting the nearby treeline. Shane squinted, trying to follow where he was pointing, and eventually saw the group of six stars, stark against the dark night.

“That’s a constellation called the Seven Sisters,” Ryan continued, “It’s a thing from Greek mythology.”

Studying the mythology of ancient cultures seemed to be Ryan’s current interest, as all through the school year Shane always saw him with his nose stuck in either a Percy Jackson novel or a non-fiction that contained a vast collection of Greek myths. Shane looked back up at the group of stars.

“I only see six,” He replied, eyes searching the sky to see if he had miscounted, “Why are they called the Seven Sisters if there’s only six?”

“There’s another one, you just can’t see it. The story is that those stars are a group of sisters who are like, deities, but one of the sisters, Merope, hides her face because her family’s ashamed of her. She’s the star you can’t see.”

Shane had gone back to staring at Ryan, perpetually amused by how focused he got whenever he was explaining one of his interests. “Why are they ashamed of her?” He laid down on his stomach, head propped up on his hands so he could look at Ryan, “What’d she do?”

“She was the only one who fell in love with this mortal guy named Sisyphus-- and he’s not just any mortal, all the gods hate him because he kept cheating death over and over again. So when Hades-- that’s the Greek god of death-- finally got him down in the Underworld to stay, he punished Sisyphus to push this boulder up a hill for eternity. Whenever he’s almost got the boulder up the hill, it falls back down again. Perpetually stuck in _almost_.” Ryan paused his ramble to shudder, “I’d hate that, wouldn’t you? Always being so close to getting something done, and it just never happening.”

“Yeah,” Shane hadn’t really been paying all that much attention; he had been looking at Ryan. He liked the way Ryan looked whenever he was talking about something he found interesting, but couldn’t put his finger down on why he liked it. He shoved his confusion aside for the second time and decided to dwell on it at a later time.

Ryan went on talking and Shane was content to listen and offer commentary occasionally. It was nice, to just sit there and listen to Ryan ramble, and although Shane was always skeptical, even at age eleven, there was something magical about laughing with his best friend as the fire burned, fireflies buzzed, and stars glittered above.

\--

It’s eighth grade year, Shane is recently 14 and, throughout his middle school years, he’s become tall, gangly-- of which the only thing he considers good about is making fun of Ryan. As Shane nears 6’4, his best friend seems to be stuck at 5’9 (Ryan says he’s 5’10 but Shane is very aware that he is a dirty fucking liar).

Well-- right now, Shane is using “best friend” in quotations. Ryan’s gone and got himself a _girlfriend_ and now they never hang out and Shane’s finding himself extremely, ridiculously upset about that. In his own opinion, his anger is very well founded because now that Ryan has a _girlfriend_ he won’t shut up about how _pretty_ and _nice_ and _cool_ she is and always wants to hang out with _her_ instead of Shane.

He’s a tiny bit jealous-- because, of _course_ he is. It’s _his_ best friend, it’s not fair for Ryan to abandon him for the first chick that walks by. Even if she is pretty, nice, and cool (Shane is all of those things but Ryan doesn’t seem to give a shit).

So, he’s ignoring Ryan as they walk home from the bus stop. Ryan’s talking about something dumb he’s really into at the moment, but every word sounds like nails on a chalkboard to Shane.

“You don’t seem very interested,” Ryan said playfully, as they neared their houses together, but all it did was make Shane more annoyed.

“I’m not,” He snapped angrily, “Why don’t you go tell _Helen_ about it?”

Ryan froze, smile falling from his face. He crossed his arm defensively. “What’s Helen got to do with anything?” He asked, glaring at Shane, who returned it tenfold.

“Oh nothing, I just guessed since you’ve been spending so much time with her lately you would want to tell her instead,” Shane’s voice was venomous, and even he himself was surprised by the amount of resentment in his voice, “Cause you’re only giving me the time of day because _Helen_ is busy.”

Ryan opened his mouth to say something, before stopping himself and furrowing his eyebrows. “You’re being a real dick, Shane,” There was a note of hurt in his voice that made Shane momentarily feel bad before more fiery ire swelled into his chest.

“I’m being a real dick?!” He exploded, all of the gross, ugly anger that had been gradually building inside Shane from the very first moment Ryan chose to hang out with _Helen_ instead of him becoming too much to contain any longer, “I’m not the one who abandoned my best fucking friend to hang out with some _girl_ , Ryan! You’re always with her, or talking about her, or whatever! You’re the _dick,_ Ryan!”

Shane stood there, breathing heavily for a moment, before registering what had just happened. He had no idea where all of that pure _rage_ had come from, and he felt the hot flush of embarrassment color his cheeks. Before Ryan could speak, Shane turned tail and ran into his home.

He was in his room by the time he felt hot tears running down his cheeks-- Shane had _fucked up_. A deep feeling of wrongness had settled low in his stomach, the uncomfortable and upsetting feeling that he had just irrevocably fucked up his relationship with his closest friend.

They had fought before, just like any other friendship, but never like that. Shane had never just… completely blown up at his like that before. And something resembling fear blossomed in his gut, fear that he had just broken something he could not fix

So he cried; he sat on his bed and cried tears that felt more embarrassing than they did cathartic. Sat against wall and felt his face become very wet very quickly, eyes burning as he futilely tried to wipe the horrible, terrible tears away with his shirtsleeve.

He brought out his phone, fumbling with it at first because it was difficult to see the screen through his tears. Immediately, he dialed Sara’s number because despite the fact that he no longer considered her his _best_ friend, she was his oldest friend and talking to her was always comforting-- a human security blanket.

“Hello?” She picked up on the second ring, and must’ve heard Shane sniffling because her second question was “Shane, are you okay?”

“I think I fucked up things with Ryan,” His voice was thick with upset, “I got mad cause he’s always spending time with Helen but I feel really shitty about it and I don’t know what to do.” He laughed, but it was humorless and bleak. “I figured you would know what to do because you know everything.”

Sara was silent for a moment. “Shane, I’m sorry,” When she finally spoke, her voice was sympathetic, “That sucks. What all did you say?”

“I called him a dick, and told him I didn’t care about what he was saying,” He wrapped his arms around himself, frowning at the memory, “I didn’t really mean it, I was just… mad.”

“You need to tell him that, not me,” Sara told him sternly. Shane’s lips twitched into something like a smile; that was what he loved about Sara, she didn’t take any of his shit. “Give him time to cool off, then call him an apologize. For everything.”

“Okay,” Shane replied, knowing she was right but already dreading the awkward conversation that has suddenly become inevitable, “What if he doesn’t want my apology?”

“Like I said, give him time to calm down. He might be mad for a while, but he’ll forgive you,” Her voice was soft and reassuring; it was comforting, “Ryan cares about you, Shane, okay? He’s not just going to drop you because of a stupid fight.”

Shane sighed; she was right, and he was getting worked up over something that he knew would eventually blow over. “Thanks, Sara.” He smiled for real this time.

“It’s no problem,” Shane knew Sara was smiling on the other end of the line, and then she paused for a moment, “Shane, can I tell you something?” Her tone was undercut with nervousness, which made Shane sit upright.

“Of course,” He replied, immediately curious and worried, “Is something wrong?”

“No, no, no,” Shane heard a skittish laugh from the other line, “Nothing bad, just… something that’s been in my mind lately. That I need to tell someone.”

“You know you can tell me anything,” Shane replied, seriously concerned by now. He had no idea what Sara was going to say (an odd sensation; he’d known Sara since they were babies and they could practically read each other’s mind at this point).

“I’m gay,” She blurted out, and Shane was still for a moment in surprise, before he burst out laughing.

“Sara,” He grinned, even though he knew she couldn’t see it, “You know I don’t care if you’re gay or not. I can’t believe _that’s_ what you were nervous to tell me about-- I thought you were about to say you’d murdered someone without me.”

Sara chuckled in relief. “I know you don’t, Shane, but you know how I get nervous over nothing.” He heard another voice on Sara’s end of the line, “Hey, I gotta go. Remember to apologize to Ryan.” Shane smiled again.

“Will do,” He said, before the line clicked dead. He wasn’t surprised that Sara was gay-- he’d seen the way she looked at Quinta. Same way he looked at--

And then it clicked. It was like a literal light bulb being flicked on inside Shane’s mind.

_He liked Ryan._

It hit him like a sack of bricks. Everything suddenly made so much _sense_ . He didn’t care about thinking about whether he was gay, bi, or whatever, but he could finally see very clearly that he was head over heels for Ryan. He wasn’t jealous of Helen because Ryan was paying attention to her instead of him, he was jealous because he was now _taken_ and Shane _liked Ryan._

Which now meant that Shane fucked up a lot more than he originally thought.

He hopped off of his bed and walked outside, trying to muster up the nerve to walk next door and apologize. He stood leaning against the porch rail staring at Ryan’s house for about ten minutes.

Shane needed to apologize, he knew that, but what if it was awkward? His interactions with Ryan had never been awkward before, but with this new… revelation, would he freeze up whenever he tried to talk to Ryan?

Shane sighed; he would shove aside his newly-realized feelings for Ryan and not let it interfere with their friendship, he finally decided. Some stupid crush wasn’t worth ruining his relationship with Ryan.

He forced himself to walk down his front porch steps and cross the street before he lost the nerve. Despite the fact that he was trying to walk as slowly as possible, he very quickly found himself face to face with Ryan’s front door. With a deep breath, Shane knocked on the door.

The door swung open and Ryan stood in front of him-- as soon as he realized it was Shane, he went to close the door.

“Wait!” Shane blurted out, and Ryan paused, narrowing his eyes at him, “I came to apologize.”

Something in Ryan’s expression softened, but he still seemed to refuse to speak to or look Shane in the eyes. Shane stared down at the ground, fidgeting with his shirtsleeve.

“I’m sorry I got jealous of Helen, and told you I didn’t care about what you were saying, and calling you a dick and--just, everything, Ry,” His gaze stayed planted firmly on the ground, not wanting to look at Ryan, “I didn’t mean any of it and I feel like shit about it. I’m sorry.”

There were a few moments of silence, Shane very pointedly not looking at Ryan, but he was suddenly being pulled into a hug. Ryan was burying his face in the nook of Shane’s shoulder, holding him close and tight but not saying anything. Shane didn’t speak either, relieved that Ryan didn’t hate him and just hugging his friend back until he finally spoke.

“I broke up with Helen today,” Ryan said, “At school, before we got into a fight. We just didn’t have enough in common, and I… missed hanging out with you. I’m sorry I abandoned you for her.”

Shane smiled at him, something warm and intense rising in his chest. “You don’t have to apologize, Ryan,” He said, softly, “I was being stupid, and I missed hanging out with you too.”

Ryan broke out into a grin too. “You’re always being stupid, Shane," He teased, trying to contain his laughter.

Shane laughed with him-- it felt good, laughing with Ryan, as it always did. But there was something new about it, almost. As if Shane was seeing Ryan in a different light for the first time.

 _He’s cute when he laughs_ , Shane thought suddenly, feeling blush color his cheeks. Ryan didn’t seem to notice.

It was something he could worry about later-- something that Shane’s sure will fade with time and he was happy enough for the time being just to be with his _friend_ Ryan.

\--

It does not fade.

Unfortunately, if _anything,_ Shane’s feelings for Ryan only grow and it fucking sucks. To the point where being near him hurts because they’re so close but it’s not enough for Shane, won’t ever be enough until he gets to feel Ryan’s lips against his own. Which will never happen.

When he tells Sara, she gives him shit about it for the longest time, but it’s just friendly teasing; she thinks Shane should just tell him. Which, it’s not as if Shane hasn’t already thought about that-- he’s tried to gather up enough courage to tell Ryan but the words refuse to leave his mouth no matter how hard he tries.

It’s scary.

No matter how much Shane wants to tell Ryan, nothing could stop the sheer panic that overtakes Shane whenever he thinks about what Ryan would do if he knew. It would ruin their friendship, Ryan would never want to speak to him again, Shane would lose him and as much as Ryan not knowing hurts him, the thought of losing Ryan hurts him more.

So he’s content like this. Watching Ryan enter and leave relationships over and over again, with the knowledge that he’s not into him and never will be. Always being _so close_ to him, _almost_ being close enough, but always yearning for something more.

\--

It’s the last weekend before Shane is officially a junior in high school, and he’s drunk. He’s at this stupid high school party that Ryan dragged him to, and he doesn’t know anyone here, and he’s drunk.

He thought that maybe, if he just kept accepting drinks, that the liquid confidence would give him the courage to go out and talk to someone-- but no. He’s never been the party type, and Ryan’s gone off somewhere-- all the alcohol’s done is make it so he doesn’t want to get up from this pool chair because he’s not fully sure that he would be able to walk straight.

He’s sitting on the deck of some popular person’s house, in front of their pool. Loud music thumps from inside and there’s not many people out here, save a group of girls all hanging out in the pool. He’s been antisocial, absorbed in his phone for the last hour, but he can’t really read anything right now. The letters just kinda swim around and wow, okay, he’s a lot more tipsy than he thought he was.

Shane stuffed his phone into his pocket, annoyed. He leaned back into the chair with his face in his hands-- he didn’t even know why he was _here_ . Ryan’s friends on the basketball team wanted him to come and Ryan had to invite him for _some reason._ Of course he said yes-- it’s _Ryan._

He can never say no to Ryan-- he’s far too good at persuading Shane to do things he doesn’t want to do. Like the one time he got Shane to spend a night in a “haunted house” (admittedly, it was funny to see him freak out over every little noise)-- or how he convinced Shane to come to this party so he could end up miserable, alone, and too drunk to drive himself home.

Shane had half a mind to call Sara to come get him when two guys came stumbling out onto the deck; he recognized them as Ian and Jeremy, asshole jocks who looked and acted like antagonists from a shitty 80’s movie. The came out laughing, and Shane knew the moment their eyes landed on him.

“Jeremy, Jeremy,” Ian slurred out, motioning to where Shane sat alone, “It’s the fucking-- the fucking faggot kid.”

Shane’s blood ran cold; he wasn’t shy about his sexuality, had dated guys at their school in an effort to get over Ryan, but he never imagined that fact would come to bite him in the ass. Shakily, he went to get up and go inside, figuring they’d leave him alone in the crowded house, but Ian shoved him in the shoulder before he could walk past them.

“Where ya goin’?” His voice was mocking, and he pushed Shane backwards once again, “Come on, man, tell us, what’s a fuckin’ fairy-ass like yourself doing around these parts?”

“Stop being an asshole and let me by,” Shane thought he sounded confident, but wasn’t sure. He could hear the slur in his own words, and he stumbled backwards as Ian shoved him.

The slap took him by surprise, snapping his head to the side as he felt someone grab the front of his shirt and yank him forward. Jeremy brought him closer to his face, Shane could smell the booze on his breath;  he tried to pull back, but Jeremy’s grip was like iron.

“You have a lot of nerve to be throwing around insults like that, faggot,” Jeremy spat out the slur, and it hurt Shane more than any punch either of them could throw, “You’re out here, alone, at a party where no one gives a shit about you, and you wanna call us assholes? I’ll kick your cocksucking ass so bad--”

“What the fuck are you two _doing?_ ”

Jeremy released Shane, who scrambled backwards away from the duo. Ryan stood in the doorway of the house, a look of righteous fury on his face-- Shane had never been happier to see him in his entire life.

“That’s my best friend, you fucking _dickheads_ ,” He marched forward and grabbed Shane by the wrist, dragging him away from the two guys, who had both gone silent, “Come on, Shane, let’s go. I didn’t realize so many complete fucking douchebags were in attendance.” He pulled Shane through the inside of the house, the crowd parting like the Red Sea-- Ryan did not often get angry, but right now he was absolutely infuriated.

He stopped at the front porch, pulling out his phone and muttering under his breath. “Can’t fucking believe those shitwipes would do something like that-- Shane, how drunk are you?” Ryan was staring at Shane, who answered him by running over to the porch rail and puking into the party host’s bushes.

“I’ll get an Uber,” Ryan said gently, rubbing Shane’s back as he threw up, “I’m sorry for making you come here, I didn’t know something like that would happen.”

“No, no, no” Shane pulled himself up off the rail, turning to face Ryan, who looked beautiful and soft in the white glow of the porch light, “Thank you, for-- for getting those guys off of me. I’m sorry for ruining your night.”

Ryan had clearly been having a good time-- Shane had barely seen him all night and he smelled faintly of tequila. He was afraid Ryan was going to be annoyed by him, but Ryan just gave him a small smile.

“I wouldn’t want to be here without you,” He almost whispered it, like it was a confession of something, “And I don’t want to be anywhere where assholes like that are going to treat you so shittily.”

Shane’s breathing hitched; he didn't say anything in reply, just looked at Ryan’s face framed by the light in a way that made him look almost angelic, and was suddenly overcome with the urge to tell him everything, to pull him forward and kiss him.

He didn’t. Even in his drunken state, some inhibition made him stop and remain frozen in the perpetual state of _almost_. Shane almost told Ryan that he was madly in love with him, he almost pulled Ryan in to kiss him, almost mustered up the courage to be honest and transparent about his feelings for the first time since the eighth grade.

But he didn’t.

He let Ryan lead him to the car when it arrived, accepted Ryan’s invitation to sleep over when he voiced his worry about his parents seeing him drunk, and leaned against Ryan’s shoulder the entire way home. The car ride was spent in a comfortable silence, and still Shane was taken by the compulsion to spill his feelings to Ryan, but the words clung to the back of his throat and withered there.

\--

Shane’s last year of high school is a whirlwind of college applications and exams, and it’s the first thing to truly take his mind off of Ryan in a long time. It’s the week before graduation, and the heat has begun to rise as the school year comes to an end.

Shane is sitting on his front porch with Ryan, the Friday before their last week of school. It’s weird; Shane should be excited, his dream college accepted him and he’s _finally_ through high school. But instead he’s apprehensive, the vast future ahead of him far more terrifying than welcoming.

Ryan noticed. “Hey,” He gives Shane a warm, reassuring smile, “Stop thinking about the future. Oh shut up, I know you were. C’mon, let’s build a campfire and sleep in a tent tonight, like when we were kids.”

“Ryan,” Shane whined, but couldn't help but grin back, “Can’t we just build a campfire and sleep _inside_? Y’know, where there’s air conditioning and indoor plumbing?”

His protest was in vain, because Ryan had that look in his eyes that Shane knew far too well. He knew better than to argue any further, and found himself begrudgingly gathering firewood ten minutes later. He couldn’t bring himself to get annoyed with Ryan-- never could.

The fire grew as the sun disappeared behind the horizon and the stars began to decorate the sky. Ryan laid in the grass and motioned to the spot next to him.

“Stargaze with me,” He offered, illuminated by the fire in a way that took Shane’s breath away. He didn’t trust himself to speak, so he merely nodded and laid next to Ryan.

The stars were endless, their beauty somehow magnified due to the fact that Shane was looking at them with Ryan. Ryan pointed up at the sky, back to the Seven Sisters constellation.

“Do you remember the story I told you about that group of stars?” Something about the atmosphere had shifted; Ryan’s voice was quiet and breathless as he looked at Shane. Once again, he could only nod, before Ryan’s gaze turned back towards the stars, the infinite cosmos reflected in his dark brown eyes.

“There’s another story about them,” Ryan pointed at another constellation, one that Shane recognized as Orion’s Belt, “That constellation there’s Orion. His story is that he was in love with the sisters, and chased them for twelve years before Zeus turned them all into stars.” He glanced at Shane, something nervous in his expression.

“He’s still chasing them. He’s always on that end of the sky, and the sisters opposite of him.” Ryan sat up, looking at Shane fully now, “They’re always stuck in the same place, never getting any further away but also never getting any closer. He’s almost caught up, but will never be able to close that gap between them. Wouldn’t you hate that?”

“I would,” Shane can barely speak as he sits up, because Ryan’s hand is on his and there’s something different about the air around them but it’s a good different-- and Shane won’t let himself get excited, because he’s suddenly gripped with the anxiety that this is nothing, it’s insignificant and he’s just projecting his feelings onto Ryan--

“Me too,” Ryan leaned forward, something hesitant and shy in his voice, “What if I told you that I’m tired of almost? Because Shane, I like you, a lot, and I have since we were eleven, and unless I’ve misjudged all of this horribly, I feel like we’re on the verge of something-- we’re _almost_ something, and I-- I want there to be more.” He was looking at Shane now, something scared in his expression as Shane sat frozen.

Shane’s brain had just completely stopped, white static where his thoughts used to be because _holy shit Ryan likes him Jesus Christ_. Ryan interpreted his silence as rejection and pulled back, clearly embarrassed.  

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have--” He began apologizing, the shame in his tone kickstarting Shane into action-- he reached forward and pulled Ryan back, meeting Ryan’s lips with his own. Ryan’s initial surprise faded quickly and he responded to Shane, his lips soft and he tasted like the smoke coming from the campfire. It was slow, the both of them testing the waters with one another, but something about it was familiar and comforting. Kissing Ryan was like coming home.

When they finally pulled apart, Ryan’s eyes were alight with relief and happiness, lips red. He smiled, a smile far too wide to contain, and he pulled Shane into a tight bear hug, burying his face in Shane’s chest.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Ryan whispered, something giddy and childish in his tone, “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for that.”

“Me too,” Shane replied, a laugh bubbling up from inside him, “It’s almost surreal.” He paused, before pulling Ryan away from his chest.

“Can I kiss you again?” There was a shyness in the way he asked, some part of him still scared of Ryan’s rejection-- but Ryan immediately put those fears to rest when he nodded enthusiastically. Shane leaned in to kiss him once again, more confident this time.

They sat there together, getting to know one another for a second time, not as friends but as _lovers_ ; Shane held Ryan close to him, and a warm and wonderful feeling swelled in his chest, making him light headed and almost hurting in its intensity.

Ryan was gripping his hand tightly, like he thought that if he let go, Shane would disappear and it all would be some dream--Shane knew how he felt. It was almost dreamlike, and here, intertwined with the boy he had been in love with since what felt like the dawn of time, Shane’s heart felt content and at peace.

He was in love with Ryan, and by some sort of miracle or lucky twist of fate, Ryan loved him back.

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and comments appreciated!


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